


Do You Remember the First Time?

by arcadian_dream



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: femmefest, F/F, Fisting, Incest, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-18
Updated: 2010-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:44:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadian_dream/pseuds/arcadian_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Narcissa cannot recall the first time she suffered at her sister's hands – but she can remember the first time she liked it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Remember the First Time?

Narcissa cannot quite remember the first time that Bellatrix started to play rough.

She suspects that she always – always – experienced some sort of pain alongside her sister's touch. In the way Bella gripped Narcissa's hand too tightly: so tightly that Bella's fingernails would dig into the palm of Narcissa's hand, marking her flesh with a handful of small, crescent-shaped indentations; in the way that Bella hit too hard, her palm stinging Narcissa's skin; or tugged a little too sharply on a fistful of Narcissa's white-blonde hair as they bickered.

If she closes her eyes and attempts to recall their shared childhood and adolescence, a plethora of these image rise up behind Narcissa's closed eyelids, flickering like old film across a movie screen.

But the memory of that first time, _the very first time,_ that Bella's touch stung her – well, it eludes her.

What she can recall, however, is the first time that she enjoyed it; that she gasped in pleasure, and not pain.

*

She was young; they both were. Stumbling awkwardly into adolescence, Narcissa was pale and thin; and the certainty that had hallmarked each and every movement of her childhood had begun to falter, undermined by the neuroses of growing up.

She sat, cross-legged, across from her sister in the garden: nervous, for reasons she couldn't quite name, when Bellatrix uncrossed her legs and inched across the grass. She placed the palms of her hands on Narcissa's bare knees, soft skin stretched over bone where her summer dress rode up over her slender thighs.

"Are you sure about this, Bella?" Narcissa asked in a hushed voice.

Bella nodded. She smiled. "Of course, Cissy," she said, her eyes glittering.

"Bella, I don't know."

Bella sighed, but not in impatience or exasperation. Raising a hand from where it rested on Narcissa's knee, she brushed the back of her hand softly against Narcissa's cheek; she leaned into the touch. As she did, her eyes fluttered closed and Bella, taking advantage of the momentary lapse in attention, tilted Narcissa's head back, so that she looked as though she was about to kiss the sky and in that instant, Bella pressed her lips to her sister's.

Narcissa's eyes snapped open; she made to draw back, but Bella, cupping Narcissa's jaw in her hand, tightened her grip. Wide-eyed, Narcissa watched Bella's eyes fall closed as she deepened the kiss; pushing her tongue past lips and teeth and into Narcissa's mouth, where her own tongue lay flaccid. The feel of Bella's tongue running over her own caused Narcissa to breathe in sharply, the taste of Bellatrix catching in her throat as she did so and, soon, Narcissa was drawn into the warm undulating sensations and between trembling lips she pushed her own tongue back against Bella's.

Easing into a rhythm, Narcissa allowed herself to be carried away by Bella's touch until she felt a sharp, pulling pain on her tongue: moving away from Narcissa now, Bella sucked on her sister's tongue, fiercely, until Narcissa cried out in a stifled whimper.

Narcissa tried to speak, but couldn't formulate what it is that she wanted to say: she could not decide how she felt about the discomfort, the tension, in her mouth; the onset of pain. From beneath furrowed brow, she asked Bella: "What did you do that for?"

"Why? Did you not like it?"

And Narcissa, bringing her hand to her mouth, paused; trapped in a state of uncertainty; a kind of purgatory between pain, and pleasure.

*

This moment is what Narcissa recalls as she squirms against her bindings: the first time that she remembers suffering at Bella's hands (and lips, and tongue, and teeth), and enjoying it.

And it is that memory that she contentedly recounts in her mind as she waits for Bella to administer her touch again.

The contentment, however, does not last long: she can feel her arousal growing; heat generating between her legs.

She is already wet: the mere memory of that first kiss tantalising, teasing her.

"Bella," Narcissa whines, each syllable of speech elongated. "Please, Bella; please."

"Tut-tut," comes the reply. Craning her head forwards, squashing her pointed chin to her chest as she does so, Narcissa tries to see where Bella is in the room, but she cannot.

"Bella?" she says again, more enquiringly. "Please, just – just _touch_ me."

"Come now, Cissy," Bella says. She is closer this time, Narcissa knows; she breathes deeply as the sound of her sister's steady gait echoes around her.

"This begging," Bella adds, with a nonchalant wave of her bony, gnarled fingers, "It's so …_unbecoming._"

She hisses, rather than speaks this last word; leaning down to where Narcissa is bound to the table, her lips little more than a hair's breadth from Narcissa's lips; Narcissa's cheeks.

She shivers with anticipation at Bella's sudden proximity; she whimpers as Bella moves closer still. Quickly now, she presses her tongue past parted lips and lays it flat on Narcissa's cheek, running it up over the ridge of her cheekbone. Narcissa exhales deeply; and Bella caresses the tip of her Narcissa's top lip with her tongue before taking it between her teeth and tugging.

"Bella," Narcissa moans or, rather, tries to as Bella pulls on her lip. With a sudden piercing pain, a progressive shudder courses throughNarcissa's body and she leans into Bella's touch. Bella smirks as Narcissa writhes on the table. She trails a finger over Narcissa's sternum, drawing an invisible, wandering line over her naked torso, from the pliable mounds of her breasts to the softness of her belly. She pauses; her fingers tremulously close to Narcissa's cunt. She does not however, proceed.

Narcissa groans, frustrated. She thrusts her hips into the vacant space above her, shifting from side to side.

"I'm sorry, Cissy," Bella whispers as she clambers up onto the table. "Was there something you wanted?" She swings one leg over Narcissa's body and straddles her, lowering herself onto Narcissa's stomach.

_"You're wet,"_ Narcissa gasps as Bella moves above her; against her. She gasps again as Bella, without explanation, strikes her; the slap smarting Narcissa's smooth, pale cheek.

"Quiet, Cissy," Bella says as she inches over Narcissa's torso. Her voice is hoarse, breathless. "And do as your big sister says."

Narcissa nods. She breathes deeply: the scent of Bella fills her nostrils, her mouth, her lungs. She is sweet; so sweet. Soon, it envelops Narcissa's senses as Bella positions herself over Narcissa's face. Parting the outer lips of her cunt with thumb and forefinger, she lowers herself onto Narcissa's already-extended, eager tongue. She grunts as Narcissa probes between her folds; as she laps at her, tasting her.

"Good girl, Narcissa," Bella moans, "Good girl." She moves against her sister's tongue; she gasps with each incidental caress of her clit. With a low groan, the kind of groan that rises up from some bestial place within, Bella pushes herself down, hard, against Narcissa's searching tongue; crushing herself to Narcissa's mouth. Narcissa gasps, or tries to, as she plunges deeper, harder into her sister, but each breath is stifled. Bella grinds against her and Narcissa is overcome with a dizzying, heady sensation as Bella tenses her thighs around Narcissa's face and comes, her satisfied cry tearing through the cacophony of breathlessness and soft moans that surrounds them.

Bella's thighs slacken and, slowly, she lifts herself, sopping wet, from Narcissa. She slides down over Narcissa's body once more, adorning her breasts and belly with a sticky, translucent trail. She climbs down off of the table and pauses to catch her breath.

"Bella, please," Narcissa says, taking up where she left off; her pleas more desperate this time.

"Please, Cissy?" Bella asks, her tone almost mocking.

"Please," Narcissa says, her voice rising to a high-pitched whine. "Please, just touch me; fuck me, Bella.

Bella smirks. She leans in close, her cheek brushing Narcissa's as she whispers: "What was that, dear sister?"

"Fuck me."

"Hmm?" Bella says, feigning disinterest. Her eyes wander over the sight of her sister's naked, bound and breathless. "And how would I go about doing that, Cissy?"

"You know how," Narcissa replies through gritted teeth. The aching between her legs radiates throughout her body; she is desperate. She needs something; anything.

And Bella is the one who can give it to her.

Bella walks around the table, tracing a wandering finger over Narcissa's heaving body. At the end of the table, Bella frees Narcissa's ankles of their bindings. Climbing up between her legs, she pushes them back, hard, against Narcissa's chest, exposing her cunt. In the light, the sheen of Narcissa's arousal glints on her lips and thighs and Bella runs a teasing finger over the slit.

"Is this what you wanted, Cissy?"

Narcissa says nothing, only whimpers.

"Or maybe," Bella says as she slips a finger inside Narcissa, "this was what you were after?"

"Yes," Narcissa says. "_Please_, Bella." Bella, complying with the request, slips a second and then a third finger inside Narcissa; Narcissa arches up against the touch, urging Bella to press further, harder.

"More," she begs, her voice harsh and ragged.

Bella takes a deep breath and inserts a fourth finger.

_"More,"_ Narcissa gasps and she gasps again as Bella's fist fills her, stretching her wide; so wide she thinks she might split open and the pain, the pain, _the pain_ –

"Oh God, Bella," Narcissa strains against her bindings as Bella moves inside her, and she against Bella's fist and she is consumed by the thrill of suffering, the blurring of pleasure and pain.

Of the same intoxicating ache of that kiss - that very first kiss - all those years ago.


End file.
